Always Eat Your Veggiesby Minx

Dean continued to stare at the limp pile of broccoli Pastor Jim had placed on his dinner plate with the horrified disgust one normally reserved for viewing such atrocities as mutilated corpses.To the nine-year-old’s way of thinking, broccoli was a far worse evil to confront than any dead body, mutilated or not. For starters, it was just plain ugly – tough, squat stalks topped with prickly lookingbuds that appearedto be made of millions of tiny green balls that tasted absolutely nasty and never failed to scatter everywhere on your plate.

Dean stuck his tongue out at the offensive vegetable in front of him. He gingerly poked at a bright green stem with his fork.

“Dean, quit playing around and finish your dinner,” John ordered from across the table.

Dean frowned, his nose wrinkling.“I’m done,” he stated, laying his fork down beside his plate, and preparing to rise from his chair.

John looked up from his own dinner, pinning Dean with a stern look.“You’re not done, buddy.”He pointed at Dean’s plate.“Eat your broccoli.”

“I don’t like broccoli,” Dean stated, nudging his dinner plate away.

John sat up, leaning in across the table towards his son.“I didn’t ask you whether you liked it or not.I told you to eat it. Now, finish up or you’re not getting any dessert.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. There was chocolate cake for dessert.One of Pastor Jim’s church ladies had made it and brought it over just that morning. He flicked his gaze over to Sammy, who was placidly mixing his cut up broccoli into his mashed potatoes and then spooning the light green goo happily into his mouth.A devious smile ghosted over Dean’s lips, his eyes twinkling.

John’s senses came to full alert upon hearing Sammy offer up a small, short whine. He gazed up from his dinner, concern on his face. Before John could discern if there was an actual problem, Dean piped up, sounding oddly cheerful.

“I’m done.”

John cast a glance over at Dean’s now empty plate and nodded his approval. “Good boy.”

Sam let out another frustrated whimper, his big round eyes filling with tears.John frowned, bringing his attention back to his baby.

“What, Sammy?What’s the matter?”

Lip quivering, Sam glared over at Dean and then down at his plate.There seemed to be twice as much on it as before.

John’s growl was full of irritation. “Dean.”

“What?”

John was in no mood for his son’s antics.“I told you to eat that broccoli, not put it on your brother’s plate for him to eat.”

John was done with the attitude.“I’m counting to five, Dean, and then someone in this room is getting a spanking for not following orders.”

Sam turtled down in his chair, peeking out between his splayed fingers at the two combatants.

“One...”

Dean glared at his dad but remained motionless.

“Two…”

“Dad!” Dean pleaded, attempting to appeal to his father’s sense of justice. “It’s all cold now and slimy and everything…”

“Three...”

“Why can’t we have French fries?French fries are vegetables, too!”

“FOUR...”

“Broccoli is stupid! I HATE IT!” Dean shouted, giving the plate in front of him a petulant shove. “I’m never eating it ever again!”

Dean’s defiant outburst set John in motion.He was on top of his son in two strides, lifting Dean from his seat and using the chair’s lower rung to prop his left foot up.John easily tossed Dean over his raised knee and began swatting the boy’s upturned backside with a succession of sharp slaps meant to leave a memorable sting all across Dean’s butt.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” Dean hollered, jerking over his dad’s knee as he felt the heat blooming across his rear end from his dad’s hard hand.“I’m sorry!” he hastily added, hoping to gain some mercy.

“I tell you to do something, Dean James Winchester, and you better do it,” John lectured as he spanked.“And you ever throw that kind of crap at me again, and I’ll make sure you can’t sit down comfortably until your 21st birthday! Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir!”Dean yelped.

John smacked Dean’s butt a dozen more times, Dean flinching and ‘owing’ with each and every spank, and then John stopped.He slid Dean down to the ground, and turned him, giving Dean one last swat on his bottom to propel him towards the kitchen doorway and the hall beyond.

“Go on to your room, mister.You’re done for the night,” John announced firmly.“I want you washed up, in your pajamas and in bed in ten.”

Dean trudged sullenly out of the kitchen, sighing heavily in defeat.

John was setting a piece of cake down in front of Sam when Dean’s voice carried from the hallway.

“Hey Dad?”

“What, Dean?” John replied curtly over his shoulder.

Dean stuck his head back into the kitchen, a hopeful smile on his face.“Can I get a piece of cake to go?”

Sam watched his daddy’s face turn a funny color of purple as he let fly with a string of words Sam knew were not very nice at all.At least, that’s what Pastor Jim had told him.He watched, fascinated at how fast Daddy moved as he pivoted from the kitchen table.John was nothing more than a big, angry blur as he took off after Dean, grumbling more bad words under his breath along the way.